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OLIVER TWIST.

"Bah!" whispered the Jew, as though nettled by the interruption; "it's the man I expected before, he's coming down stairs. Not a word about the money while he's here, Nance. He won't stop long—not ten minutes, my dear."

Laying his skinny forefinger upon his lip, the Jew carried a candle to the door as a man's step was heard upon the stairs without, and reached it at the same moment as the visiter, who coming hastily into the room, was close upon the girl before he observed her.

It was Monks.

"Only one of my young people," said the Jew, observing that Monks drew back on beholding a stranger. "Don't move, Nancy."

The girl drew closer to the table, and glancing at Monks with an air of careless levity, withdrew her eyes; but as he turned his towards the Jew, she stole another look, so keen and searching, and full of purpose, that if there had been any bystander to observe the change he could hardly have believed the two looks to have proceeded from the same person.